Page 53 of Let Me In

On my bed.On my bed.

Curled beneath the blanket like she belongs there, because she does. The sleeves of my shirt hang loose on her wrists, bunched up where her hands tuck beneath her cheek. The smallest smile playing on her lips. Peaceful. Like she hasn’t slept in a year and finally found a place that feels like home.

It wrecks me.

I mean,wrecksme.

My throat tightens, something in me lurching hard—like her peace is too bright to look at head-on. And there’s a part of me, dark and selfish and stupid, that wants to climb in next to her. Wants to wrap around her and stay like that until morning.Until the nightmares don’t come. Until the world forgets to be so goddamn cruel.

But I don’t.

Because she’s been scared enough for one night.

And if she wakes up to find me beside her, maybe that fear will still be sitting in her bones. Maybe she’ll think she has to give something just because I was kind. Just because I let her in. And I don’t want her to give me anything.

I just want her safe.

So I pull the door shut, slow and silent. Let it click into place.

The couch groans when I sink into it, too short for my legs. I grab a spare pillow, toss an old quilt over myself. The place smells like her now—soft and warm, like citrus shampoo and something sweeter beneath it. It makes my chest ache.

The ceiling’s too dark to look at, too full of questions. So I close my eyes.

I listen to the sounds of the cabin settling, to the wind against the glass, to the quiet rhythm of her breathing through the wall.

And I make a promise I don’t say out loud.

No one touches her.

No one makes her feel small or scared or unworthy ever again.

Not if I can help it.

Not while I’m still here. Still breathing. Still willing to burn the whole damn world down just to keep her in one piece.

Even if all I ever get is this. Just the weight of her in my home, her scent in my sheets, the soft rhythm of her breath in the next room. If this is all I’m allowed—watching over her from a distance—then it’s enough. I’ll take it. I’ll protect it.

A girl in my bed, wearing my shirt, dreaming safe.

Looking like something I’ve waited my whole life to find.

And me on the couch, breathing like it’s a prayer.

16

EMMY

The door clicks shut.

Quiet and careful, but something in me still jolts, like I’ve been left behind.

Not in a bad way. Not really. Just… a way that leaves a hollow ache in my chest, echoing faint and unfamiliar.

He didn’t say anything. Just gave me the shirt, turned off the hallway light, and closed the door.

But something in his eyes right before he turned—something unreadable, something heavy—I can’t stop thinking about it.

Luca settles by the door almost immediately, his big body making a gentle thud against the wood. Cleo hops lightly onto the end of the bed, curling into the blanket near my feet like she’s staked her claim.

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